


Patch Notes

by pauraque



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-23
Updated: 2011-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-27 22:51:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/300907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pauraque/pseuds/pauraque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which changes are documented, but not necessarily justified.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patch Notes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hannelore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannelore/gifts).



> Possible spoilers for patch 4.3, if you don't already know what happens at the end of the Deathwing raid. Happy Yuletide!

Vol'jin raised his hand, and after a moment's hesitation, he rapped on the door. When it opened, Thrall was there, and his eyes went bright with pleasure and surprise.

"This the Go'el residence?" Vol'jin asked teasingly.

Thrall laughed. "It is! Friend, it is good to see you in the city again... To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Nothin' too important..." Vol'jin dug into his bag and came out with a paper-wrapped package. "Just heard an old friend of mine gonna be a daddy, figured I'd bring a little somethin'."

Thrall took it from him with a smile. "This wasn't necessary," he said modestly as he undid the strings.

"The little things, they what keep ya goin'," Vol'jin said.

"Oh, it's..." Thrall held up the jar of dried leaves with a look of uncertainty.

"From our first tobacco harvest down on the Isles. _Just_ tobacco," he added quickly, grinning at Thrall's worried expression. "I know ya don't smoke nothin' stronger."

Thrall broke into a warm, broad grin— one Vol'jin felt he hadn't seen in years. He clasped Vol'jin on the shoulder. "Thank you. I'll enjoy it as soon as I can."

Vol'jin returned the gesture, his thumb rubbing Thrall's shoulder as they looked at each other for a moment. Thrall's hand dropped first.

Vol'jin glanced down, smiling crookedly. "Well," he said. "Can't stay too long. Always something needs doing. Don't wanna overstay my welcome, neither."

"You are always welcome in Orgrimmar," Thrall said, his gaze steely. "But I'm sure you're very busy, of course... As am I."

"That's a shame. I thought ya might see me home. Ride's not too long. Nice this time of day."

Thrall's smile faltered, then strengthened once more. "Of course. It's been too long since we rode side by side."

"Aye," Vol'jin said. "It has."

~

"I'da thought ya'd be riding sidesaddle in that getup of yours," Vol'jin commented as they mounted.

Thrall gave him a look as he bestrode Snowsong, tucking his robes beneath him. "Don't you start."

Vol'jin chuckled. "Ya always let me get away with teasin' ya. Your own mistake," he said, and clucked to his mount, brushing the reins against her scaly neck.

Orgrimmar looked different these days, but the scent on the air was the same. Always fire and desert dust, and the natural smells of man and beast. Late afternoon and the kids were out of school, laughing and darting dangerously through the streets, blocking traffic. A fruit vendor bellowed after an adolescent thief, shaking his fist as the laughing boy fled.

The two of them rode slowly through downtown; a path always opened before them when people saw Thrall there. Bowing and murmuring words of respect.

Snowsong's claws and the raptor's talons clicked upon the iron walkway outside the fortress that was Garrosh's now. "Not quite the city I remember," Vol'jin said, his eyes passing over the building.

"The metal plating prevents erosion in busy areas," Thrall said, studiously ignoring the direction of Vol'jin's gaze. "So they tell me, anyway."

Vol'jin shook his head. "Lotta changes. Everything up to date."

"We even have elevators now."

"Huh! Elevators. If ya ever been to the Undercity, ya know what be wrong with _that_ plan."

"We do have safety railings," Thrall said with a somewhat sheepish smile.

Vol'jin grinned.

They rode through the front gate, where workmen were at last removing the construction scaffolding from the walls.

"Looks more like a fortress now than a place to raise a family," Vol'jin observed, his smile fading.

"Whatever comes, Orgrimmar will be prepared," Thrall replied. He gazed out over the graveyard, which had sprouted like a spring garden, marked with dug-up earth and too many new stones.

"Bein' ready, that's one thing," Vol'jin said. "Just don't want the Horde to go lookin' for trouble where there ain't none yet."

"Of course not," said Thrall, an edge of unease in his voice.

They rode in silence for a time, the rhythm of the wolf and raptor's gaits going in and out of sync. The screeches of harpies still echoed off the canyon walls at this time of the afternoon. No matter how many young adventurers tried, they never seemed to get rid of them all.

"Maybe it be time again," Vol'jin said carefully, "for a man of peace to lead."

"Perhaps," Thrall said. "But that is no longer for me to decide."

Vol'jin shook his head. "I thought I understood ya, Thrall. A chief needs an heir— fair enough. But watcha need an heir for if ya stayin' a private citizen?"

Thrall's hands tightened on the reins, making Snowsong shake her head irritably. "Who said I needed an heir?"

"Only way I could make sense of things. You know, you and..."

Thrall refused to finish the sentence for him. He stared at Vol'jin as if he didn't know what was meant.

"...you and Aggra," Vol'jin finished awkwardly.

"What is there to make sense of?" Thrall growled. "She is my wife."

They looked at each other in mutual disbelief for a moment.

Vol'jin smiled weakly. "Come on, now, brother. We know each other longer than that."

Thrall looked straight ahead. "I don't know what you mean."

"Course you don't." Vol'jin rubbed his forehead. "Thrall, I gotta speak plain. Bein' bent don't mean ya can't be a leader. It don't even mean ya can't be a father."

A party of young orcs ran past them the other way, towards the city, their bare feet beating the dust. Thrall watched them pass before he answered.

"I appreciate your concern," he said quietly. "But I know what I am doing."

They rode on. Out of the canyon, past Razor Hill, casting long shadows on the red earth.

"I remember the first day we washed up on this land," Vol'jin said. "Big change from the jungle. Nothin' pretty 'bout Durotar. A hundred troubles. A hundred ways to die." He squinted up at the dimming sky. "Funny thing though. Don't notice the ugly no more. Now... just looks like home."

Vol'jin glanced over, but Thrall's eyes were fixed on the horizon.

They forded the warm shallows of the sea. Now that they owned these waters again, even they looked different— brighter, reflecting the setting sun. As they made their way onto the big island, trolls were there on the shore, bringing up nets of bright red and gold fish. They shouted greetings to Vol'jin, who answered them with a salute and a smile. Snowsong shook the water from her coat; Thrall clung hard to her ruff, his face obscured within his hood.

When they reached Vol'jin's house, Vol'jin dismounted and gave his raptor a slap on the hip. She lurched off toward the stableyard.

Thrall sat stiff in his saddle. "I have to get back," he said.

"Of course. Ya know ya welcome anytime."

"I know."

A pause.

"Thrall, listen—"

"Please." Thrall held up his hands. "It is too late for regrets. You must trust me."

Vol'jin paused. "Been a lotta years bein' at your side. Lotta times I questioned ya. Long nights up arguin' over what needed to be done. This the first time ya made me feel questioning you was a betrayal."

Thrall's face was impassive, but Vol'jin saw the quicker rise and fall of his chest. "This is different," he said.

"Many things are, these days." Vol'jin placed his hand on the door.

Thrall drew breath as though to speak again, but then he shook his head and turned Snowsong away. Her paws left broad prints in the damp island sand.


End file.
